Zama

by Dan Armstrong

  Following the coastline, the trip from Carthage to Rusucmon Bay, where Utica was located, was nearly twice the distance Tunis was from Utica by land. Unaware that Scipio had guessed their plan, the Carthaginian captains proceeded without the urgency the situation demanded. Scipio raced ahead with his cavalry, while his brother trailed behind with the infantry. Riding fast and unencumbered by foot soldiers, Scipio was there by midnight. Lucius wouldn’t be there until the following day.

  Expecting the Carthaginian fleet to arrive the next morning, Scipio quickly devised a plan and set his men to working through the night. Rather than risk a sea battle where his warships would be greatly outnumbered, he decided to blockade the entrance of the harbor to protect them. By sunrise he had assembled all his transports and any merchants vessels he could take from the locals into three lines. The masts were dropped and laid across the gunwales to adjacent ships and lashed into place. Long planks were added to the barricade for increased strength.

  Midmorning the first of the Carthaginian warships were spotted approaching the entrance to Rusucmon Bay. Soon afterward the entire fleet entered the bay aligned for battle, expecting the Roman warships to come out to meet them. Instead they encountered a floating sea wall, armed with catapults and manned by Roman soldiers. The Carthaginian captains ordered their ships to ram it, thinking they could break right through.

  The situation rapidly deteriorated into a mayhem of tangled sea vessels. The Carthaginian warships, though better suited for battle, were not as tall as the transports that had been tied together. The Carthaginians soldiers were forced to toss their javelins upward at their enemy, while the Romans showered them with darts from above.

  After battling hand-to-hand in a snarl of lines and broken timbers with no clear progress, the Carthaginian captains instructed their men to throw grappling hooks attached to long ropes into the Roman rigging. With the hooks ensnared in the lines, the Carthaginian warships reversed direction and methodically towed intertwined portions of the barricade out to sea. Unable to stop them, the legionnaires manning these captured ships dove into the harbor to avoid being taken prisoner.

  Although Scipio’s blockade created enough clutter in the harbor to prevent an all out sea battle, the Carthaginians did manage to sail off with sixty transports. After the two horrible setbacks that Scipio had already inflicted on Carthage, this was heralded in the Council of Elders as a major victory.

  CHAPTER 87

  By this time Syphax had arrived at the palace in Cirta, accompanied by his new personal attendant Vangue. Syphax knew that Laelius and Masinissa were pursuing him. He had also learned that when Masinissa had reached the ancestral Maesulii territory that Syphax had taken from him, the Maesulii king was greeted by his people as a hero. The puppets Syphax had installed in the lesser cities were quickly removed, and Masinissa was enthusiastically anointed as the rightful ruler. Masinissa added another five thousand volunteers to the troops that had come with him from the Great Plains and continued on with Laelius to Cirta to reclaim the palace that had once been his father’s.

  The night of his return, Syphax went directly to his chambers to seek out Sophonisba who had arrived the day before from Siga. When Syphax stormed into the bedroom hoping to find sanctuary in the arms of his bride, Sophonisba was sitting at her dressing table. Her new handmaiden, Nycea, stood behind her preparing the queen for bed. Felicia, now an adult cheetah and not yet fully accustomed to Syphax, lay asleep on the bed. She lifted her head to warily appraise the visitor and snarled.

  “Get that animal out of the bedroom,” snapped Syphax. Nycea quickly put a leash on Felicia and led her from the room.

  Sophonisba, who had heard inconclusive reports about the lost battle, abruptly stood. She wore a dark blue robe, and her lustrous black hair lay about her shoulders and down her back. Although displeased by the way Syphax had dismissed Felicia, she spoke softly and with concern. “My king, what has happened? Tell me that what I’ve heard is not true.”

  “I cannot lie,” Syphax said. “We have suffered another terrible defeat, and even worse, there is an army a few days from here coming after me.” He embraced Sophonisba as a dying man embraces the last moments of his life.

  “And my father?”

  “He escaped from the battlefield as I did. He should be in Carthage by now preparing for Scipio’s advance on the city.” He shook his head. “It’s over, Sophonisba. It’s over. It’s time for us to give up Cirta and return to Siga.”

  Sophonisba spun from his arms and angrily strode across the room. “Has Hannibal returned? Has Scipio defeated our greatest general?”

  Syphax hung his head in dejection. “No. Hannibal is still in Italy.”

  “Then he won’t be there for long, and your job is not over.”

  Syphax lifted his head. “No, Sophonisba, there is no reason for me to continue in this war. Your father will certainly ask me to once again strip my country of its young men and come to his rescue, but it will all be in vain. This man Scipio is the equal of Hannibal, and I want no more of this losing effort.”

  Sophonisba crossed the room and came up close to her husband. “Only the man who does not give himself fully in defeat is a loser,” she hissed. “Tell me I have not married a coward.”

  “Would you prefer a corpse to a coward? You’re asking me to die for Carthage, and that I will not do.”

  Sophonisba glared at him, then quickly snatched the dagger that hung at his hip and stepped away from him. “Then know this for certain. Your wedding bed will go cold without me in it.”

  Syphax took a step toward her, but she backed away farther and pressed the sword’s blade against her breast. “Touch me, my king, and you will lose your queen. Without Carthage, I am nothing. I need not be. I have no need for love. I have no need for passion.”

  The one thing Syphax knew for certain, amid all the disarray of his kingdom, was that there could be no joy in his life without Sophonisba. He wanted her now more than he had on his wedding night—only because on his wedding night he hadn’t known what heights of pleasure such a woman could impart.

  Sophonisba raised the knife above her head, set to thrust it into her chest. Syphax dropped to his knees. “I will raise yet another army, my queen. I pledge my life to Carthage.”

  CHAPTER 88

  Syphax’s kingdom was vast even without the Maesulii territory. The next morning he sent his officers out into the countryside to conscript any man they found—young or old. After three days he had amassed a force of nearly thirty thousand. He organized his cavalry into squadrons and his infantry into phalanxes, then, having had no time to train these raw recruits, took off to meet the ten thousand foot and three thousand horse commanded by Laelius and Masinissa. He would destroy the smaller army and continue on to Carthage.

  The two armies found each other late in the day ten miles from the gates of Cirta. The following morning they assembled in battle formation. Laelius extended the Roman line as far as he could to prevent being flanked by the larger force. As was common, contingents of cavalry on both sides made probing sorties at their opposition to begin the battle. One, then two, then three skirmishes broke out between the mounted soldiers. Suddenly both cavalries were on the battlefield fighting with the infantry in reserve behind.

  Although vastly more experienced, Laelius’ and Masinissa’s cavalries struggled to hold their own against an enemy that seemed to come at them in endless waves. Syphax’s riders steadily gained control of the battlefield, despite losing horses and riders at twice the rate of their Roman counterparts.

  Instead of retreating in the face of what seemed insurmountable odds, Laelius signaled for the infantry to advance. Syphax’s Numidians answered in a swarm, racing forward to confront the tightly maintained rank and file of the Roman legionnaires. The advancing legion cut through the Numidian recruits like soft butter, creating havoc on the battlefield and forcing many of the Numidian riders off their mounts to assist the infantry. The momentum of the battle completely revers
ed. Fear of defeat spread through the Numidians like a disease. Many began to run from the battlefield.

  With the battle turning before his eyes and his queen’s words in his ears, Syphax gave a kick to his horse, and waving his sword over his head, raced into the center of the battle looking for Masinissa. If he couldn’t have Sophonisba, neither would his rival.

  The two men saw each at the same time. Even from a distance, Masinissa could read the hatred in Syphax’s eyes. He guided Chthonia through the clutter of dead, close enough to launch a javelin at the Masaesyli king. Syphax’s horse took the javelin in the chest. The horse stood on its hind legs momentarily, then went down sideways, throwing Syphax violently to the ground. Masinissa leapt from his horse and held the disoriented king to the ground with the tip of his sword. Six Roman soldiers quickly surrounded Syphax and dragged him kicking and screaming from the battlefield.

  The sight of their king being roughly escorted from the battle completed the demoralization of the Numidians. They fled from the battlefield like rats from a sinking ship. The Roman cavalry chased after them, cutting them down as they ran. Some twenty-five thousand Numidians were killed or taken prisoner. The Roman losses were less than two thousand.

  CHAPTER 89

  The next morning, while the Roman soldiers stripped the battlefield of plunder and buried their dead, Masinissa approached Laelius with a personal request.

  “The city of Cirta was once the capital of my father’s kingdom. The defeat and capture of Syphax means that Cirta now belongs to the Maesulii tribe and is part of my kingdom. It would be greatly meaningful to me if you would allow me to ride ahead with the cavalry, taking Syphax with us. Think of the sight when I arrive outside their gates with my ouster in chains and demand that they open the city to their rightful king. To me, to the Maesulii, nothing could be more momentous.”

  Laelius titled his head thinking about the proposal.

  Masinissa continued to press him. “You can come at your own pace with the infantry and the baggage. We can secure the city when you arrive, then rejoin Scipio on the coast.”

  “Fair enough, Masinissa. Leave whenever your men are ready. Expect me to be there tomorrow.”

  “Thank you. You will be welcomed as a hero.”

  Masinissa reached Cirta shortly after noon that day wearing Syphax’s golden breastplate. Two thousand cavalry, riding two abreast, stretched out behind him with a cart carrying Syphax in shackles at the rear. When the guards in the battlements saw the contingent approaching, they thought it was Syphax returning victorious. A call went through the city to prepare for the king’s arrival. Soldiers lined the battlements two deep, and ten trumpets signaled for the opening of the main gate. But before that could happen, a guard noticed that it wasn’t Syphax leading the cavalry and shouted out in alarm, “It’s not the king! Secure the gate!”

  When the contingent of cavalry came to a halt, several of the guards recognized that it was Masinissa and shouted insults at him, laughing at his paltry force, taunting him as though he intended to storm the walls.

  Masinissa ignored the ridicule and rose up on his horse to address the guards above the huge wooden gate. “I have returned to take my kingdom back,” he shouted. “Open the gates and welcome the son of Gala. I am your king. This is my city.”

  The taunts and insults increased as others in the city were drawn to the commotion. Some joined the soldiers in the ramparts to shout and jeer. The guard in charge of the gate laughed at Masinissa, calling out, “Syphax is our king, Masinissa. Cirta is no longer yours.” Those atop the walls echoed those sentiments, followed by more laughter and catcalls.

  “No, you are mistaken!” bellowed Masinissa. “Syphax is my prisoner. His army is defeated. Open these gates. I am your king.”

  This only brought more laughter. A few of the onlookers tossed fruit and vegetables at Masinissa, mocking his arrogance.

  Masinissa turned and motioned to the men behind him. A horse drawn cart, led by a man on foot, made its way up the line to where Masinissa waited on Chthonia.

  The sight of Syphax in the cart, stripped of his armor, streaked with dirt and blood, and shackled, brought immediate silence to those along the battlements. One of the guards shouted, “The army has been destroyed!”

  This message resounded around the battlements and echoed through the city. Within the palace, Sophonisba, standing at her bedroom window, heard it loud and clear.

  As abruptly as the wind can change, the sentiments in the city reversed. Instead of insults, there was adulation.

  “Hail to the new king!”

  “Hail Masinissa!”

  Masinissa raised his right hand, extending his sword in the air. “Open the gates. Your rightful king has returned.”

  The gates slowly opened. Masinissa led his men into the city and directly to the palace where he had been raised as a child. After ordering ten of his men to take Syphax to a cell in the palace dungeon, he strode up the center of the great hall with his men crowding in behind. Masinissa triumphantly stood on one of the two thrones, and to the cheers of his men, lifted his sword as though it were a scepter. “I am home!” he shouted. “I am finally home!”

  Masinissa swept his sword out before him as a gesture to his men. “To you, I give my most heartfelt thanks for your loyalty and for your blood. Without both I could not be here. You will be repaid from the treasure chests of the now deposed king.”

  Again the men cheered in adulation. Some let out high pitched yips and whistles. Every man there was happy to be home, and the raucous celebration continued as though it might never end. Then, suddenly, a commotion at the rear of the room caused them all to turn around. Silence spread like a rumor from the back of the room to the front. The hall became completely quiet. Masinissa, uncertain of what was happening, watched as the mass of soldiers parted, creating a path to the throne. At the far end stood Sophonisba, wearing her golden diadem and the pale blue gown that was her father’s favorite and showed off her body in a way that could make any man’s blood run hot. Masinissa stepped down off the throne as Sophonisba swayed like a panther up the aisle, and the awestruck soldiers filled in behind her.

  Upon reaching the throne, Sophonisba prostrated herself at Masinissa’s feet. With the entire room spellbound by her entrance, she rose up on her knees and looked up at the new king. “The gods’ graces shine upon you, Masinissa. You have been permitted to return to your lawful kingdom and your throne. How ironic it is I who you must evict from the royal chambers.”

  Overcome, Masinissa placed his sword on the throne, then reached out, taking both of her hands in his, and oh, so gently lifted her to her feet, as though she were some creature from the heavens.

  Sophonisba looked into his face. “I saw it in your eyes those many years ago, Masinissa—you were destined for great things. I had hoped to be a part of that. Unfortunately the whims of war did not bring us together. Instead we were drawn apart. You are the rightful king. I am your plunder.”

  Several of the soldiers called for her execution. One shouted out a crude suggestion. A second and third followed with more craven appeals. Many of the soldiers began to laugh. Masinissa held up one hand. The room quieted again.

  The dethroned queen turned to the soldiers and then back to Masinissa. “Yes, I know, it was my husband who stole your kingdom and your throne. And for that alone, you have every right to kill me. I will not even trouble you by pleading for mercy. Take me now for whatever pleasure or torture you can conceive, but please, Your Majesty, if there were one thing, one request that I could ask, no matter what else you may do with me, do not turn me over to the Romans.” Her passion narrowed to a focus. “You can surely imagine what a Carthaginian woman, the daughter of Hasdrubal, can expect at the hands of the Romans. I will gladly accept what a fellow African determines is my punishment, but do not allow the Romans to parade me into Rome as part of Scipio’s triumph. That is a humiliation worse than death.”

  Masinissa, already madly in love with her, and t
aken deeply by her words and the spell she had cast, touched her cheek. “Please, Sophonisba, know that your heart-felt request is wasted on me. I have no more intention of giving you to the Romans than I do of killing you. Of all the treasures in Africa, none has more value to me than you. If I may do with you as I like,” his eyes lit up and his nostrils flared, “the only prison I would make for you would be my bed. Will you be my queen?”

  The soldiers erupted, louder than before, with heartfelt praise for their king and more gratuitous suggestions and vibrant yipping. Masinissa lifted his hand again for quiet so that Sophonisba could respond to his proposal.

  “One moment I am the queen of the wealthiest king in all of Africa. The next I am common plunder.” Sophonisba squeezed Masinissa’s hand as tears ran from her eyes. “Now I am offered that which I have only dreamed of. Whatever pleasures you might seek, Your Majesty, I will give to you with utmost joy for the gift of your hand in marriage.”

  Sophonisba’s words inflamed the passions of an already passionate man. Masinissa, struggling not to take her then and there on the floor of the great hall, contained himself long enough to issue orders to his officers. “Search the city. Seek out every one of Syphax’s officials and put them to death. Execute any military officers that you find. Offer any remaining soldiers the choice of loyalty to their new king or the edge of a blade across their neck.”

  When all but his most loyal bodyguards had filed from the great hall, Masinissa ordered those who remained to secure the palace and to allow no one to enter until further orders. With that, he drew Sophonisba into his arms and whispered, “I will never give you to the Romans.”